


Trefoil

by katajainen



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst Lite, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Smut, Jewelry, M/M, Nwalin Week 2017, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katajainen/pseuds/katajainen
Summary: Sometimes the strongest hope is the one found unexpected.





	Trefoil

**Author's Note:**

> For the Nwalin Week 2017 Day 2 prompt: Emeralds ~~or Amethysts~~.
> 
> Again, thanks to saraste for the nit-picking.

The late afternoon sun was warming the sheltered meadow behind the skin-changer’s house, and the smell of living grass rose fresh and sharp where the greenery had been crushed in their tumbling.

There were leaves clinging to Nori’s hair, the green glowing jewel-bright with the light shining behind him; a faint sheen of sweat glimmered on the lean muscle of his freckled shoulders, and Dwalin had never in his life seen anything so beautiful.

Nori’s hands petted at his chest, drawing ever-widening circles into the bare skin, the light caress barely this side of ticklish, and Dwalin shivered, letting his own hands slip, down pale sinewy thighs straddling his hips, then back up again, swallowing hard when he saw Nori’s eyes flutter half-closed, heard the sudden catch in his breath.

Nori looked down at him, a sharp-toothed smile spreading slowly on his face, and moved, lifting himself, then sliding all the way down Dwalin’s hard length with a long shuddering exhale.

And Dwalin couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think beyond the joining of their bodies, the aching slowness of it strangely lacking in the sense of urgency he was used to with new bed-mates, as if they shared an unspoken agreement to savour this reprieve from traveling to its utmost. He lifted his hand to cup Nori’s cheek, and felt the tight-woven patterns of braided hair against his palm. Nori covered his hand with his own, turning his head to catch Dwalin’s thumb in his mouth, the flicker of his tongue on his skin like flame to dry wood. The light caught on his hair, and made the escaped strands flare in a crimson crown over his head.

All around them, the wide green expanse of grass and herb sighed under the breath of wind, and the drone of bees rose high towards the bright clean-swept sky.

*        *        *

The days were hard to tell from one another here, deep under the Mountain’s green stone where the very air shimmered heavy and golden.

Dwalin picked up coins and trinkets with little thought, and let them trickle through his fingers back down to the endless yellow-gleaming heaps, treasure past price and counting, all they could ever dream and more, yet not nearly enough when they could not find the one piece that mattered. Thoughts turned slow in his head, like he was wading through gold-tinged treacle, and his heart weighed heavy with worry for his friend and king.

Much later, days and weeks after the fighting was done, and their beloved dead given back to the stone, Dwalin stood in what had once been their mother’s study, feeling oddly out of place, almost like a dwarfling caught snooping around where he shouldn’t. He ought to be unpacking his belongings, such as had survived the meandering course of their journey, but had been seized by a strong reluctance to do anything that would mark this place as _his_.

Because it had not been his own dream he had fought and bled for.

But he had to start somewhere, and so he emptied his coat pockets on the windowsill -- and was left staring. The shutters were open, and the wan wintertime sun filtering in through cracked panes reflected off polished facets of vivid green, calling him back to the scent of crushed clover, and a warmer, more forgiving light.

He could not recall ever picking up the piece in the treasury, much less pocketing it.

The emeralds were cut into angular tear-shapes and set into perfectly symmetrical trefoils. Fine chains of pale gold connected the bejeweled clasps, and Dwalin could imagine how they would shimmer and shift with every movement of the wearer’s head. How the gemstones would catch the light and shine with the bright living glimmer of green leaves.

He stood there for a long time, slowly and carefully untangling the knotted-up chains, and deep in his grief-worn heart, he felt stirring awake a warm, flickering spark that he dared not yet name hope.

*        *        *

The fiddle wove an intricate jig over the rapid pounding of the drum, and the warm lamplight shone off the green jewels clasped into Nori’s russet hair, the colours like springtime and autumn come at once, and the chains glittered in flying golden loops as he leaped and spun to the insistent beat. And each time he caught Dwalin’s eye, it was all he could do not to fumble his own steps.

When the music died, the two of them were left standing in the middle of the great hall. Then Nori stepped forward and regarded him with his head cocked slightly to one side, a lingering once-over that started from his boots and ended at his eyes, and Dwalin moved closer himself, pulled by the heat of that gaze, his heartbeat picking up from more than the simple effort of dancing. _Yours, I’m yours now_ , and the simple boundless truth of that thought had breath catching in his chest. Nori gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, a slow wicked grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.

‘I think,’ he said softly, ‘that this lot could manage the rest of the party without us.’

‘Aye, I think they could.’

There were more than a few catcalls when they made a dash for the door, but Nori called them right back, and the truth was that neither of them had the patience for one well-wisher more.

From what they heard afterwards, the wedding party did go on without them, magnificently so, and the stories went around even longer.

But that was not a thought Dwalin had any time for as they stumbled into their rooms with a barely decent amount of clothes still on, and he pushed Nori against the door for a deep urgent kiss that would not wait, and Nori climbed him like a tree, first one leg, then the other hooking easily around his waist, and it would have been perfect, save for the inconvenience of having their trousers still on.

So he took his husband to bed, where he was drawn to marvel at the easy skim of his own dark hands over pale freckled skin, old scars even whiter raised lines under his questing fingers. He was mesmerized by all the jewelry Nori wore _under_ his clothes, meant for no-one’s eyes but the two of them, then clung gasping at the sheets as he felt skin-warm metal slipping inside him, briefly balancing on the knife’s edge of too much and too fast before tipping over to the side of pleasure, swept away by the desire that mounted and built between them with the speed and force of the white-foaming snowmelt roaring down the sides of the Mountain outside.

When they held each other afterwards, Nori’s arms were a circle of quiet strength around him, and that, at least, was a place Dwalin would readily call his own.


End file.
